Taylor’s is one of the last red leather seat, wood walled steak houses of Los Angeles. A wholly traditional beef menu of nothing but meat, meat, angina, meat, potatoes, and a side vegetable. The place is in a crappy ass part of L.A., which really only adds to the ambiance and decor. You can see fire and police retirements parties here, and the many fattening meals to expand the bellies and arteries of formerly fit men. The staff has changed along with the neighborhood; I thought I was ordering garlic fries, and got cottage fries instead due to a thick Hispanic accent (not mine, mind you). Nevertheless, my bone-in prime rib was good, a tad less pink than I was hoping for, but otherwise a nice piece of meat. The night before I had finished reading a lengthy article about aging meats by James Steingarten, the food writer for Vogue, and knew to ask about the aging methods of the restaurant. Steingarten is adamant about dry aging beef (see Nick+Stef’s, part of the Patina group food oligarchy of Los Angeles cultural landmarks) for at least 6 to 8 weeks, and then cooking to medium rare (just to warm on the inside). Taylor’s meats are wet aged for two weeks, meaning they are shrink wrapped in plastic to expedite the process. Ruth’s Chris does the same thing and all use USDA prime cuts. (A side note, Ruth’s Chris is named as such because Ruth got the restaurant in the divorce and continues to rub Chris’ nose in her settlement by making her name the possessive. i.e. “Ivana’s Mercedes”, “Tom Cruise’s children”, or “Meg Ryan’s film career”.). If you ask Steingarten he’d say it was garbage. If you ask me, it was a fine place to spend my 30th birthday, and my fiancee’s excitement over taking me to a classic steak house for my birthday was more than delicious.
3361 W 8th St. Los Angeles